Such a bad mother?
by HedgieX
Summary: Reminiscing, Lady Capulet is overcome by emotion as she wonders if she was ultimately to blame for the death of her only daughter. Imo, no one considers her real feelings, so this is my attempt at her diary as she reveals her innermost thoughts...


I simply cannot describe the guilt I feel right now; the sorrow, and the helplessness. My daughter, my only darling daughter, is dead. And it's entirely my fault.

I always tried my hardest to love Juliet, and to show that love. I bought her fine gifts, and allowed her to do as she wished. But maybe I didn't try hard enough. I never actually wrapped my arms around her, though; never told her in so many words that I cared for her more than I could say. I was always bad at that sort of thing. There I am again; pushing the blame away. I can't do that any more.

My extravagant banquets laid out to impress, or the dances set to compete. So caught up was I in my own reputation among the upper class, Juliet's welfare was forgotten. I was vain, and arrogant, and selfish; I know that now. But right then I didn't know it; I just couldn't see what I was doing. I ordered Nurse around, took advantage of men when my husband looked away, disregarded others' opinions entirely...

I thought Paris seemed a brilliant suitor for Juliet. Yes, she was young to commit to life, but he was polite and mature, not to mention handsome, and he asked for her hand in marriage so humbly. I didn't even notice she disapproved. All I saw was the praise I'd receive for finding her such a husband.

I didn't even notice when she found her real love; Romeo. She was married to him, and I hadn't even heard of their meeting! That was what it all boiled down to, really, wasn't it? I was such a bad mother she didn't even trust me with her deepest, darkest secrets – the kind of thing only a mother should know?

As for all the fighting between our Capulet and Montague, I never really enjoyed it, but I followed my house's lead, I suppose. Anything for more publicity. When Tybalt was killed, I swore I'd send a henchman to kill Romeo. I didn't understand the circumstance of the murders. I didn't realise that he was Juliet's lover, nor that he'd only killed out of sheer anger, only to regret it deeply later.

When my husband again demanded Juliet marry Paris, and she argued, I didn't defend her. I didn't even attempt to understand her emotions. I just told her she would; that it was final. Nurse agreed with me, and she permanently had Juliet's best interests at heart, even when I didn't. But that doesn't really hinder my tears now, as I recall the events of the last few days.

Instead of giving in, Juliet defied both myself and Nurse, who she'd always, in return for freely given adoration, trusted. She ran away, to the Friar; she was truly so desperate to escape our fury at her refusal to marry she'd go to any length. I was told afterwards that she took a potion, so she appeared to be dead. To think that, a few moments before she took it, I was by her side, completely taken in by her new pretence that she'd marry Paris. I didn't even suspect that anything was amiss. What a great mother I was.

When Nurse discovered her dead, and screamed the entire mansion down, I didn't cry, as everyone else did. If I was still blaming others, I'd say I couldn't cry; it was just as if all the life in me had been sucked out, leaving my heart void of emotion. But I'm not. Not now. I have to face the truth. And, in reality, I didn't mourn because, however dreadful this may sound, I felt I still had to uphold my status. I didn't even cry at my own daughter's funeral. The whole thing seems surreal, really, as if it were all a dream. Or a nightmare.

But then Romeo and Paris fought, and Paris was killed as police surrounded our tomb. Romeo committed suicide then. That was the point that I realised, like I'd never understood before, the depth of this situation. To love someone so much you simply couldn't bear to face life without them was...Was something I'd never experienced, and really found impossible to comprehend. As if that were not bad enough, Juliet awoke. I can see her eyes now, imagine her pain as she found his limp body laid beside her on the silk sheets. Devastated.

My daughter dying was excruciating, whatever I chose to portray on the outside. But, however much that hurt, the pain when I heard she'd killed herself was utterly unbearable. Suicide and death are two totally different things. One is a choice. One isn't.

Lady Montague died, I later discovered, from pure grief at her son's banishment. In one way, it was an easier alternative to her hearing of Romeo's death, though. I can't think of worse torture. I think, once the numbness subsides, I'll feel as she did. But, as a small consolation, the feud of Capulet and Montague is over, forever. I think we all owe that much to them; the star crossed lovers Romeo and Juliet. Yes, they were immature, and inconsiderate, but no more than we were. Innocent people died because of pointlessly spiteful arguments between our houses. None of this would ever have happened if we'd realised that earlier.

What is done, is done, though. You can't change the past. The guilt and regret will never leave me now. There are countless things I'd change, if only we could rewind the clock. But, as it is, all we can do is remember them, and learn from their mistakes. Two golden statues will be built, to remind us of our children's plight, and of our promise of peace forevermore. We owe them that much.

Obviously, I don't own the characters of Romeo and Juliet ;)

Thanks for reading – I hope you enjoyed it. Please review; I'm new to FanFic and love to read comments :)


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